


You'd Do The Same For Me

by bipercabeth



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, POV Annabeth Chase, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipercabeth/pseuds/bipercabeth
Summary: A peek at Annabeth's life during the months where Percy is missing plus an alternate Mark of Athena Percabeth reunion.





	You'd Do The Same For Me

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea of Annabeth being anxious to change anything about her appearance while Percy was gone, and that manifested itself into this fic.  
> This is for the PJO 2018 Secret Santa! Sorry it's a bit late, but I hope you enjoy, sleepywitchnarcolepsy!

There are few things that make Annabeth happy these days, but standing in the center of the sword fighting arena, panting with exhaustion and dripping with sweat, she feels _alive_. 

Clarisse stands opposite her, recollecting herself and taking advantage of the breather. She adjusts her bandana and checks over the handle of her spear, which was just in gridlock with Annabeth’s sword. 

While Annabeth isn’t fond of fighting without her dagger, she’s found that her sparring sessions don’t further her skill as much when she uses it. These days demand more of her with all their distractions and responsibilities, so she has to challenge herself. Few people at camp can help her with that anymore, and though Jason would be a formidable opponent, sparring with Jason only reminds her how not-Percy he is. He’s simply too _Roman_ to be of much use to her distraction or her progression. 

But Clarisse? The daughter of Ares is anything but Roman. And she’s _familiar_. Annabeth and Clarisse have been fighting in this arena since they were children, before quests and prophecies and Percy, and if Annabeth focuses only on the matter at hand, she can almost fool herself into believing they’re back in that time. 

Annabeth tucks a stray hair away from her eye and into one of her twin braids. Eager to avoid more of a lull, she charges her opponent. 

Clarisse is ready for her and they lock weapons once more, facing off in a display of determination and strength. Annabeth’s muscles scream and tremble with the effort. She breaks the hold and rolls away before Clarisse can win out. 

She lets Clarisse come to her. Clarisse shifts her grip on her spear, which now crackles with electricity, and gives away her next rush. Annabeth whips out of the way at the last minute, one of her long braids smacking her in the face while the other catches, pulling her head back and cranking her neck. 

With great effort, Annabeth wrenches herself free of Clarisse’s grip. “Hair-pulling? We’re resorting to hair pulling now, La Rue?” 

A bark of laughter escapes Clarisse despite the challenge in Annabeth’s voice. The other girl’s eyes fix almost nervously on something on the floor behind Annabeth, but Annabeth doesn’t let herself fall for it. Anger flaring up in her, she charges Clarisse with renewed intensity. 

Annabeth ducks Clarisse’s blow and hears the wind _whoosh_ in her ear as the spear swings past. She gets in close enough to limit both weapons’ movement and takes advantage of the surprise on Clarisse’s face by barreling straight into her. She isn’t foolish enough to think she can best Clarisse in hand-to-hand, but she can knock her down. 

As expected, Clarisse hits the ground with a grunt. While the impact drives the air from her opponent’s lungs, Annabeth plants her knee on Clarisse’s chest and uses the other leg to kick the spear out of her grip.

“Yield,” Annabeth all but growls. 

“Alright,” Clarisse says too calmly, an unsettling smile sliding across her face “but you might want to do something about this.” Annabeth tenses as Clarisse’s hand reaches up and closes around her left braid. The smell of something singed fills Annabeth’s nose, and she looks down to find her braid several inches too short, the frayed ends unraveling without a hair tie. 

Then Annabeth is on the floor. She isn’t sure how she got there, all she knows is the distant rumble of Clarisse’s voice and the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Her heart pounds like it’s trying to escape her chest. 

The sound of Clarisse barking at someone Annabeth can’t see to fetch Will Solace brings Annabeth crashing back to reality. 

“No, I—I just need to rest. Clarisse, I’m fine.” Annabeth ignores the other girl’s extended hand and gets to her feet on her own, noticing the semicircle of campers that has formed around them.

“Fine, Chase. Have it your way.” Clarisse rolls her eyes and walks back to the center of the arena. “Who’s next?” she calls.

Annabeth welcomes the group’s distraction and rushes toward Cabin Six. A rush of gratitude fills her when she hears Clarisse yell at two campers who attempt to follow.

She checks her pulse as she walks and tries to calm both her breathing and heart rate. 

In her determination to reach her cabin, Annabeth almost runs square into Will Solace accompanied by Chris Rodriguez and Rachel. One glare sends Chris forward to the arena, an apology in his eyes and falling from his mouth. 

Rachel and Will are not as easy. The two plant themselves between Annabeth and her cabin, which has just come into sight. It’s Rachel who speaks first. 

“Going somewhere?” 

“Yeah, I was sparring with Clarisse when I got a new idea for the _Argo II_. Got distracted for a second and her spear caught me. I was just on my way to write it down.” It’s far from the truth, but Annabeth has learned that the quickest way to get people off her case is to spew facts about work until they politely excuse themselves. 

“Really? Because that’s not what Chris told us.” 

“Chris didn’t see what happened, Clarisse didn’t even get a blow in.” 

Will takes a step forward. “So you’ll have no problem going to the infirmary for a checkup?” 

“I don’t need to go to the infirmary for a bad haircut.” Annabeth rolls her eyes and takes a step to the left. 

Will moves with her. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Annabeth. When was the last time you ate a decent meal?” 

Annabeth balks at Will’s words, but they reinforce her need to remove herself of the situation. “I’ll go eat in my cabin if you let me go.” She moves to sidestep again, but Rachel blocks her this time. 

“Cool. I’ll go with you.” Rachel’s tone is too smug for Annabeth’s current temperament. 

“I don’t need an entourage.” 

“No, but you _do_ need friends. And sleep. And a decent meal, and a haircut, and a shower.” 

“I said-” Annabeth takes a moment to collect herself when she notices the crowd forming around the three. She keeps her voice low and steady, lowering her eyes to make contact with Rachel’s defiant green ones “-I don’t need an entourage, _Dare_.” 

“This isn’t what Percy would’ve wanted for you.” 

A pang of loss and fury shoots through Annabeth, who fumes at these words. “Did you just refer to him in past tense? He isn’t—he is _not_ -” 

It’s at this point that Jason emerges from the crowd. Given Rachel’s last words and the unwelcome images swirling around Annabeth’s head, his presence is _particularly_ unwelcome. She sends him a glare to make sure he knows it. 

But Jason, always far too full of good intentions, must analyze the situation and decide that _she_ is the problem, because he approaches her with his hands up as if she’s some cornered animal. And she feels like one right now.

But before she can lash out, Piper stops Jason with a hand on his arm. The two share a silent conversation, but Annabeth doesn’t plan to stick around and watch. She makes one last try at freedom only to be stopped by Piper and the growing crowd.

Piper glances around at the audience they’ve gathered. “Excuse me, does this concern any of you?” After a few disgruntled mumbles and head shakes, the crowd disperses. 

Annabeth lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Thanks, Piper.” 

“Annabeth,” Rachel starts, “you need to take some time off or, gods be damned, I will wrestle that laptop from your hands myself if I have to.” She scoffs at the skeptical looks Jason and Piper give her. “What? At least they’d be doing something by smiting me.” 

“Rachel is right… about that first bit.” Will interrupts. “You need sleep and a decent meal, Annabeth. We’re just trying to look out for you. It’s what you’d do for any of your friends. Just come with me, please.” 

She shakes her head. “I understand that you guys mean well, but I’d be better off in my own cabin. If you’d just let me go back-”

Piper interrupts. “What if I go with Annabeth to Cabin Six? Would that make you two feel better?” 

Rachel and Will share a glance before deflating. Will nods and Rachel crosses her arms. 

Annabeth sees that this is the only way she's getting out of this situation and her resolution crumbles. 

“Okay, we’ll go now then.” Will steps forward and opens his arms to Annabeth. With escape in sight, she accepts a brief hug. Rachel follows suit and Annabeth’s guard goes up, but the concern on her friend’s face makes her accept the embrace. 

“Take care of her, Piper.” Rachel says before walking away. 

“I don’t need to be taken care of!” Annabeth protests as Rachel retreats. 

 

“Sorry you got stuck with babysitting duty.” Annabeth says once she and Piper cross the threshold of Cabin Six. 

“Oh, hush. I wasn’t stuck with you, I offered to be here.” 

“Well, regardless, thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Piper plops on the bed next to her. “I won’t prod if you don’t want me to, but I have to ask, what happened in the arena?”

Annabeth winces and reaches up to touch her singed braid. She knows a lie won’t get past Piper, but nobody knows about her panic attacks, let alone the reason behind them. 

But if anyone could understand what she’s going through, it’s Piper. The two of them have gotten close in the past few months, and, if Annabeth is being honest, she enjoys Piper’s company. If she had to choose someone to have this conversation with anyone, it’d probably be her. 

Her resolve crumbles when she looks into Piper’s eyes and sees empathy swimming in their depths. Not the pity that seems to follow her around these days, just empathy and understanding. 

“It’s just—Percy and Jason are mirrors of each other, right? And so much of Jason’s memories are triggered by the smallest things…” She holds up the pathetic end of her braid. “What if this is the stupid reason he doesn’t remember me?” 

To Annabeth’s surprise, Piper just nods sadly. “Annabeth, I know you need support right now—don’t deny it, it’s true—but when was the last time you looked in a mirror? Like _really_ looked at yourself. Because, and I say this with love, I don’t think a haircut would be the biggest change.” 

Her confusion must be clear on her face because Piper takes her hand and leads her to the mirror by the cabin’s bathroom. 

“I got here three days after he disappeared. I’ve seen you decline. I understand that the others are driving you crazy about this, but they aren’t entirely wrong. You’ve lost weight, and I can look at you and tell you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in days.” 

Annabeth looks at her reflection and realizes Piper is right. There hasn’t been enough time for Annabeth to worry about her appearance, and it shows. Her training has kept her from going dangerously thin, but it’s left her body as muscle and not much else. New hollows in her face show that the transformation has not been healthy. 

She didn’t consider that. Lately everything in her life is prioritized by needs. There’s so much to do to get Percy back, and that’s something Annabeth could hold in her hands. She could do things; she _needs_ to do things. She can help with the _Argo II_ , sharpen her combat skills for the upcoming quest, study, make blueprints, make plans. But showering? Eating? She didn’t _need_ to do those things. She could scarf down a meal over her laptop once a day and get by just fine, and nobody was ever close to her long enough to make hygiene a real issue. There is too much to do to be selfish with her time and energy. She needs to put it all into getting Percy back. It had never occurred to her that this might make her more difficult to recognize.

When she speaks again, her voice is small. “What if none of it is enough? What if his memory is gone for good?” 

“I don’t know.” Piper squeezes her hands and steps in front of the mirror. “But I’ve heard the stories, Annabeth, and I’ve seen the way you talk about him. I don’t think anything could remove all of you from Percy’s mind. And if it does? You rebuild. He’s going to be lost. He’s going to need you no matter what. But-” she says firmly, holding Annabeth’s gaze- “there’s no reason to think that’s going to happen. Jason is getting his memories back, and yes, it’s slow, and yes, it hurts, but it’s happening. You said it yourself: there’s no reason to think he and Percy would be any different.” 

Piper sounds like she’s said this before. Not to Annabeth—she’d remember if she had, no matter how sleep-deprived—but to herself. A rush of gratitude and sorrow rushes through Annabeth, because of _course_ Piper has given this so much thought; she’s going through the same thing on the other side. Someone in the Roman camp could need to hear these same words about Jason. Annabeth doesn’t want to think about the Roman equivalent of Piper in this scenario, but she selfishly hopes that person is similar to Piper. How kind-hearted do you have to be to say words of comfort to someone who, in another scenario, could take someone you love away from you? 

Annabeth is grateful, to say the least. 

“Thanks, Piper. That means a lot. And I know it can’t be easy for you to say.” Piper smiles sadly and nods, but it doesn’t feel like Annabeth has said enough. “No, really. And I want you to know that if Percy has found someone over there who makes him as happy as you make Jason, I’d be alright.” Piper shoots her a doubting look. “In the long run, at least. Heartbroken? Of course, but he’d be alive and happy and it’d be selfish of me to want any different. If he chooses someone else the way Jason has chosen you, I’d respect it.” 

As much as it hurt her to say, Annabeth realizes it’s the truth. She’d be ruined for a long time—the quest would be hell (what if Percy brought his new significant other?)—but it’d be his choice. And her words seem to have done a great deal for Piper, whose eyes are misting up similarly to Annabeth’s right now. 

Piper changes the subject, but she gives Annabeth a look that communicates all the gratitude she could’ve said. 

“If it helps, you can do something to help him that’s also taking time for yourself. How about a photo book? To jog his memory?”

At this suggestion, Annabeth opens her arms and attempts to hug Piper, who holds her at arm’s length.

“Unh uh, honey. When was the last time you showered? You smell like Festus after he crashed into those porta-potties in Detroit.” 

And Annabeth is laughing, truly _laughing_ , for the first time since Percy disappeared. It feels good. She lets herself soak it in and doubles over, clutching her stomach and smiling until her cheeks ache. Then reality hits her in the face, reality being the choppy ends of her left side braid. 

Her laughter disappears and Piper puts a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Go shower. I’ll sort out the rest.” 

The shower reminds her of Percy, as most water does these days, but for the first time, Annabeth does not drown in those feelings. She floats above it and allows herself to believe she’s on the right path. They have a ship in progress and they know where he is. She’s going where she needs to be. 

When she gets out and covers herself in a towel, Piper is waiting on her bunk with fresh clothes pulled out for her.

“I know you haven’t done laundry in forever, so I ran around and picked these up for you. I’m pretty sure they’ll work.” She hands Annabeth a sweatshirt she recognizes and shorts she thinks are Drew’s.

Annabeth’s eyes widen at the sight of the AHS Swim sweatshirt. Her eyes dart up to meet Piper’s, which hold a wariness and an uncertainty that she’s done the right thing here. With one hand holding her towel in place, Annabeth steps forward and wraps Piper in the tightest one-armed hug she can muster.

It takes a while, but Piper sits behind Annabeth on her bed and brushes the knots out of her wet hair. Annabeth lets herself be taken care of, while still somewhat uncomfortable, is content with it. 

She lets herself cry at her desk when the hair falls to the floor. It’s cathartic, actually. The pictures of Percy pinned above her desk and kind words from Piper comfort her until it’s over. She cries again when she looks in the mirror and sees the results, but it isn’t as drastic as she thought. Instead of hitting at her waist, her hair now rests several inches below her collarbone. It’s still enough to put into a high ponytail, so she isn’t too worried about practicality. She tries to push down her worries of familiarity. 

As Piper pulls pictures from her wall and helps her put them in a small leather journal, it isn’t too hard to be distracted. 

 

A warm Californian breeze blows across the deck of the Argo II. Annabeth stands at the railing and looks as the camp below them grows in size. 

Her hand comes up to tug at the ends of her hair, which is a new nervous tick. It’s down, because she knows Percy likes her hair down, but she’s debating whether she should put it in a ponytail because that’s what’s most familiar. 

Everything about her is familiar right now. She’s in her camp shirt and jean shorts, and she’s pulled her camp necklace out of where it usually sits beneath her shirt. The red coral Percy gave her stands out hopefully against the clay beads. 

Annabeth has never fussed over her appearance, but she’s run out of things to do today. The team has prepped and is as ready as possible. Now it’s up to Leo to get them to the ground. Given the size of the ship, the descent is slow, and Annabeth does not appreciate the time it’s giving her to over-think.  
The only one sharing her anxiety is Piper, who is anxious for the same and yet entirely different reasons. 

“You alright?” Piper asks. 

“Are you?” Annabeth responds pointedly. 

“I’d throw up over the side of this ship if there wasn’t a high chance of it being considered a hostile projectile.” 

The air is light for a moment until Leo comes up to tell them it’ll be just a few minutes until landing. It’s much heavier in Annabeth’s lungs after that. 

Jason notices the two of them overlooking the camp and comes over to join, planting a reassuring kiss on top of Piper’s head. Annabeth looks at them, the way they’re supporting each other, and cannot help the stab of jealousy in her chest. 

Their easy intimacy makes Annabeth feel like an intruder, so she heads to the exit and paces until it opens. 

Any other day, the architecture here would leave her speechless. But now all she can do is scan the faces in the crowd hoping to find those sea-green eyes. 

It feels like they’ve walked for miles when she sees him. She sees Piper send her a questioning glance in her peripheral, and she is vaguely aware of the cautionary whispers Jason directs her way, but Percy is in front of her for the first time in months and her senses focus on nothing else. 

Not only is he in front of her, but he’s walking towards her, which means he remembers her. 

_He remembers her._

Annabeth’s feet cannot carry her to him fast enough, and soon they are sprinting through the crowd towards each other. 

They crash into and wrap around each other without hesitation, and then Annabeth Chase is kissing Percy Jackson for the first time in far too long. 

She’s elated, dumbfounded, grateful—and _angry_. Incredibly angry at the situation, at this idiot for leaving her so worried for so long. Annabeth judo flips him and presses her knee to his chest. Several Romans tense, anticipating a fight, but Percy just reaches up and pulls her lips to his again.

Her hair falls around their faces like a barrier from the outside world; Percy plays with the end of a curl and tucks it behind her ear. 

“You cut your hair,” is all he offers. 

“Yeah.” She tugs on it. 

“I like it.” 

 

Later that night—after a considerable amount of sneaking around to avoid Coach Hedge—Annabeth slips into Percy’s room, unable and unwilling to sleep without him now that he’s so close. 

The album remains tucked behind her back as she pulls her Yankee's cap off her head. Percy looks up at her, drinks her in from where he sits (shirtless, she might add) on his bed. 

“Hey,” he offers her a soft smile “wasn’t sure when you were coming.” And she loves that he says _when_ instead of _if_. Annabeth suppresses the urge to jump into bed with him and considers the weight of the book in her hand. 

“When you were gone, I wasn’t—I didn’t know how much you remembered. It was… hard, but the thing that helped me through it was this book.” She brings it in front of her for him to see. “Piper came up with the idea, actually. We made copies of some of our photos and put them in a book for you because Jason’s memory was getting jogged by some strangely specific things and I needed something to do that could help you but now it’s just-” She’s cut off by Percy’s lips as he crosses the room in two strides and kisses her softly. Annabeth rises with him as he pulls away to speak. He’s gotten taller in the past few months. 

“It’s perfect. But I could never forget you, Annabeth. And I didn’t. Not even for a moment. It was like being in the Styx all over again. Every time I felt myself going under, the thought of you pulled me out. I didn’t tell anyone because I was so scared it’d disappear if I did, but I _never_ forgot you.” 

Hot tears well up in Annabeth’s eyes at his words. That, and the fact that he’s actually here in front of her. It doesn’t seem real yet. She lets him take her hands and lead her to his bed where they sit facing each other. 

They sit there holding hands and drinking each other in. The California sun has deepened his tan and added sunspots on his shoulders. He has more freckles than she remembers; she makes a point to memorize their placement. 

There are other changes too, ones that Annabeth could have gone her whole life without seeing on Percy. His eyes are as beautiful as ever, but there’s a wild look to them regardless of how much love she sees. And there are more scars, she notes as she allows herself to look at his bare chest. They’re fresh, still pink and ridged against the smooth, tan plane of his skin. 

His fingers reach up and slide under her chin, bringing her eyes back up to meet his own. She can see guilt brewing there now. Annabeth wants so badly to tell him how much she missed him, but she refuses to magnify that guilt. He’s here now. That’s what matters. 

But Percy knows her too well; she sees the apology forming at his lips and stops him with her own. Her hands cup his cheeks and stay there after they pull away. 

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize, Percy. This isn’t your fault. This was Hera, or Juno, or _whoever’s_ doing, not yours. You aren’t to blame for any of this, okay?” Her eyes search his, but he screws them shut and nods, his hands coming up to squeeze her wrists. He’s fighting with himself here, she’s sure. 

He shifts the way he’s sitting to allow himself more access to her, and Annabeth mirrors his position. In a flash he’s tugging her into him, slotting his lips to hers with an intensity the night has not yet reached. His eyes are open, and hers are too—as if losing sight of each other will separate them again. Their hands roam over the changes in each other’s bodies. Percy’s arms wrap tightly around her and pull her into his lap; Annabeth’s hands ball up similarly in the mess of hair atop his head. That’s the same, at least. 

Annabeth considers all they’re saying that they will never be able to properly articulate. She looks into his eyes and sees a desperation there. 

It’s Percy who breaks the heavy silence. “I’m never leaving you again.” He kisses her face, pecking her cheeks, nose, and forehead before ducking his head to pay attention to her jaw and neck. His lips make their way down the column of her throat and over to the shoulder exposed by her sweater— _his_ sweater. A slight smile crosses his lips at the realization; he presses it into her shoulder, and she nearly cries again when she realizes he’s kissing the scar from the knife she took for him. 

“Annabeth, I know you don’t want me to say it, but you need to let me apologize. Just once. Because it’s something I need to say. I am _so_ sorry for all of this. To you, to mom, to camp. We were supposed to be free from it, and we still got pulled in. And I know we’ve both suffered, both lost time, but it’s okay to acknowledge that you got the worst of it, staying strong for camp, for my mom, for me. You don’t have to do that right now. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but we’re _here_. You did it. We might not be free of it yet, but we’re together again. That’s what matters.” 

The tears are falling before he finishes his apology. They increase when he kisses her cheek and pulls her into his chest.

“I was so scared.” She whispers into him. “I didn’t know where you were, if you still had the Curse of Achilles-” she chokes back a sob “-why you left.” 

Annabeth can feel the air leave Percy’s lungs. She doesn’t tell him everything; she can’t talk about the holidays at Sally’s or the nights she spent crying herself to sleep in his bed. Those memories are too painful and far too ungrateful to speak aloud with him here in front of her. Instead, she tells him about her sparring match with Clarisse, how Piper cut her hair in Cabin Six, all the sleepless nights she spent getting them to this point. 

He doesn’t interrupt her, just makes noises and rubs her back to tell her he’s still listening to her. One of his hands travels up to twist a curl around his finger absentmindedly. 

“Your grey streak is gone.” He whispers. 

The last of his had faded much earlier than hers because of the different lengths of their hair. It had troubled her at the time; he was avoiding her to see Rachel and seek normalcy, and suddenly their one physical tie was gone. Or, at least, only she bore the burden of it anymore. 

But hers had continued to grow out ever since. The fading remains must have been lost to Clarisse’s spear or the haircut after. 

Percy holds the strand where it used to be up for her to inspect. It shouldn’t hit her as hard as it is, but she feels a pang of loss. Without the streak and the Curse of Achilles, they had no real physical ties to each other. 

But they’re lovesick teenagers reuniting for the first time in months and best friends with matching troublemaker streaks, so when he looks at her with that classic Percy Jackson troublemaker smirk, she’s nodding before he even proposes anything. 

It takes a certain level of stealth and planning to sneak across the ship to where Leo has passed out in the engine room, and a bit of maneuvering on Annabeth’s part to reach his magic tool belt without waking him, but she summons the necessary hair dye from it without too many close calls. 

They return to Percy’s room and messily set up their bowls and mix their dyes. Neither of them has done this before, and Percy whines about how Annabeth will have no trouble hiding her bald spot should this go horribly wrong. He loans her an old shirt to get stained as the dye sets, but neither of them account for the complete distraction that is Annabeth changing shirts while her boyfriend is in the room. 

She separates the curl that was once grey from her hair and puts the rest up in a bun, painfully aware of Percy’s eyes on her as she does it. Separating his hair is much more difficult (because of both the length and the escalating tension in the room), but she finds an old bandana that holds back most of the mess and pulls a tuft free. 

Once she’s finished brushing in the bleach, she can’t help but press a kiss to the back of his neck. Her lips on him is what breaks the tension; he turns around and his lips are on her in an instant. 

Annabeth is not a poetic person, so while, yes, her entire body sighs into his with the familiarity of it all, she doesn’t have anything to compare it to. All she has to say is that kissing him is like coming home. That thought used to scare her, but now it’s a comfort. She used to fear the feeling, thinking that acknowledging it meant it would hurt that much more when he left. Now she knows better. Now she knows it’ll just mean that much more when he comes back to her. Because he will always come back to her. 

The timer she’s set for their hair goes off and she laughs into his mouth. He presses a few more kisses to her for good measure and pulls back slightly, keeping his hands on her hips. 

“You know-” she says between kisses- “that alarm… could wake someone up.” 

His eyes gleam with mischief. “Let ‘em come.”

“Percy,” this time she pulls away and crosses the room to the timer, “do you want to be able to do this again?” 

He rolls his eyes at her tactic and pulls her into his bathroom. Together—mostly with helpful water redirection on Percy’s part—they wash the bleach from their hair and put in the grey dye. 

She sets the timer again and feels him wrap around her from behind. 

“Got anything in mind to pass the time?” She hums as his head dips to her neck. 

“I’ve got a few ideas.” He mumbles into her skin. 

Annabeth turns in his arms and wraps hers around his waist, locking her fingers over that spot on his back, his tether to the world and her, and he gasps quietly. 

And he doesn’t have to say anything. It’s better not to, really. She already knows he still feels it. Perhaps not as overwhelmingly, if his body language is any indicator, but he’s looking at her like she’s his entire world and there is no need for talking at all. 

After the dye is washed from their hair, Annabeth lays curled into Percy’s chest with his arm around her waist and his other hand playing with her hair. Her head is tucked underneath his chin in sleepy satisfaction, which his voice pulls her from gently. 

“You know what my mom said to me before the quest that gave us these?” 

She can hear the weight in his voice, so she picks her head up and props herself on one elbow to look him in the eyes. 

“She said,” he takes her renewed grey streak between his fingers and focuses on it as he speaks, “that I knew I had to leave camp to find you because you would do the same for me.” His eyes flit up to hers, love swirling in their depths, and drive the breath from her lungs. “And she was right.” 

Annabeth doesn’t know how to respond; how to articulate the emotions stirring within her in a way that makes sense, so she leans forward and presses her lips to his gently, searching his face all the while. There are a few specific words on the tip of her tongue, but she wants to save them for happier circumstances. That gets to happen on their own terms, not the gods’. She doesn’t say them out loud. 

But, then again, it’s been a long time since they needed words to communicate what they’re thinking. 

So when she pours all of that emotion into her kiss, she knows he understands. And if the way his lips press reverentially into hers means anything, she’s sure he’s saying it back.


End file.
